


The Only Gift to Give

by writerwisegirl



Series: In a hole in the ground.... [2]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Gen, Natasha’s Childhood, Red Room (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 21:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerwisegirl/pseuds/writerwisegirl
Summary: Years later Natalia and her classmates decide to pass on the gift the Soldat gave them to the next generation of Widows.





	The Only Gift to Give

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one before midnight! Yay me!

Natalia had always loved thunderstorms. (Perhaps they reminded her of her story, of that one prized possession she held close to her chest.) She didn’t know why, just that there was something so utterly free and wonderful about them. She wanted to run in them, to train in them, to kill in them, but more than anything she wanted to dance in them. She felt like if she could get out there if she could dance in the rain and mud, with thunder as her music and the wind as her partner and only lightning as her audience, maybe, for those few minutes, she could be as free as the storm. It was never possible of course. In all her fifteen years she had only felt the rain on her skin a handful of times. (Someday, she wanted to stand on rooftops in the rain and let it soak her to her skin.) They had trained in it, sometimes, but it was different when she being watched, she couldn’t let loose, let herself match the storm in her fury and destruction.

Today was one of the days where she could feel the rain calling to her from in her dorm room. She wasn’t sure how long she had been there, sometimes it was days on end, sometimes only minutes, with no sleep. (A spy always had to be ready.) Normally she could sit on her bed for hours on end, doing absolutely nothing, but today she was restless. She wandered over to where some of the other girls were fighting. (They could always use the practice after all.) As soon as they saw her stand up though, they stopped and crowded around her. (They may not always remember it, but they were sisters once.) She knew the other girls loved days like this, ones where she would leave her bed and come to talk to them. They always asked her the same question, and, though there were less of her sisters sitting around her each time, (She would forever push away the fact that she had killed some of them, that it was her fault, her fault, her fault.) she always smiled, and indulged them.

“In a hole in the ground”, she began, “there lived a Hobbit.” She told them as much of the story as she could remember. (Though she was beginning to forget where she had learned it, after numerous wipes, the story always stuck around. Natalia was pretty sure she couldn’t get rid of it even if she had wanted to.)

Once she was done, sometimes Natalia would go back to her bed, other times she would sit silently as part of the circle, just enjoying her listening to her sisters, feeling their warmth around her. It was only ever during these times that they were ever really sisters anymore. The rest of the time they were enemies, never to be trusted, and certainly never to be loved. But these days, when they all sat raptly, listening to Natalia tell them their story, they always seemed to feel like children again, holding onto each other and promising that everything would be okay. (Because this story was theirs, not the Red Rooms. It made them people, if only just a little it, and they all clung to it desperately.)

For some reason, Natalia choose today to speak, to say something other than her story.

“They've started a new class.” She told the others quietly. There hadn’t been another class since they had been there. “They’re five. I think we should tell them the story. After all, they’re our sisters too.”

They seemed to be shocked, as they were all quiet for a moment before they began nodding and making sounds of assent. They agreed that these new Widows deserved something to hold onto. (And, well, just like all those years ago, this was what they had to offer.) They all agreed that it would take some planning, they didn’t want to end up like the Soldat, never seen again, but they would do it. (They owed it to him, to make his sacrifice known, to keep giving the one gift he was able to give them: a little bit of warmth in this cold place.)

It took them weeks to get their plan set. If it was anything but this, Natalia would have been worried that one of her sisters might tell, for extra food, or a night alone, but this was, and had always been, precious. They wouldn’t tell, not about this. So, weeks later, Natalia was on her way to the other dorms. (The girls had worked something out so that she could tell on them for something, earning her a night on her own. This would have been much harder if one of the guards was expecting her in his bed.)

The girls were already locked up when she arrived, but she didn’t say or do anything. They were to be Widows after all, they needed to get used to this. They were privileged, they would get to serve their country, just as she would. She settled down in the middle of the room, feeling water dripping on her from the roof, but she didn’t mind.

“In a hole in the ground….”

Natalia told all of the story she could remember, and by the time she was done the last of the girls was just nodding off to sleep. She snuck back out of their room and had almost made it back to her own before she was caught. They took her to another room, one she was well acquainted with. They hurt her for hours, but she refused to tell them what she had been doing. Finally, disgusted, they threw out in the rain and mud. (They chained her to a post and said they would be back in a day. By the time they came for her, she was soaked and freezing.)

Natalia wasn’t sure she liked the rain so much anymore.

 _Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell_...

**Author's Note:**

> I’m very excited about this series. I have a general idea of where I’m going with this, but feel free to comment with ideas/requests!


End file.
